


we'll find a way to be alone

by romnovs (tashatops)



Series: visitor [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Character Study, F/F, Fluff and Smut, No Spoilers, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tashatops/pseuds/romnovs
Summary: Yasha's high on everything Beau, her taste, her smell, the sounds she makes. She hears the crack of thunder.Or,Beau and Yasha want to enjoy some alone time and the stormlord is a cockblock.





	we'll find a way to be alone

**Author's Note:**

> Set loosely after "if you're done running around."  
> Again, just a short little thing that wouldn't leave me be so here. Smutty character study that turned into fluff by the end somehow.  
> I tried something new with my writing that i wasn't originally going for but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Title from visitor by wet aka the Official Beauyasha Song.

Her hands find Beau's waist with ease now, nothing like the first few times they'd done this. Beau's intricate robes are not so hard to loosen anymore, she now knows how to find that sweet spot on Beau's jaw, along with several others, and the sound she makes when Yasha bites there no longer comes as a surprise (which doesn't mean it is any less enjoyable to hear).

Yasha takes her time. They can't always afford the comfort and privacy of an inn, so when they do, she makes the most of it. 

She pushes Beau against the wall, hard, enough to hear a  _ thud _ and a gasp. She stares. There's no trace of awkwardness anymore, only hunger, and she can see how much Beau likes it.

(She also notices how unaccustomed Beau is to being in the spotlight. She sees it in the flicker of Beau's eyes, in the way she almost refuses to meet Yasha's gaze, in the shift of her weight from one foot to the other.)

The raindrops pattering against the window pull her out of her thoughts.

_ Pat. _

_ Pat. _

_ Pat. _

They hit the glass one by one, rolling down slowly. 

He's going to need her soon, she can feel it: a dull ache, deep in her bones; a tug in her gut.

 But she has time, still, and right now she just  _ wants.  _ She steps closer to Beau, presses their bodies together, grabs a fistful of Beau's hair. Their kisses are slow, unhurried. She skims her hands under Beau's loose robes, traces the outline of her abs, rakes her nails ever so softly down Beau's stomach. And Beau shivers, and gasps, and lets out that little huff of hers (the one that tells Yasha  _ I need more  _ and  _ I can't wait any longer  _ and  _ I love everything you're doing _ all at the same time), and Yasha thinks she could do this for hours.

 She's leaving marks on Beau's neck, red circles that will darken come morning, but then:  _ pat, pat, pat, pat.  _ The rain falls heavier on their window, faster. She'll need to be gone before sunrise. She can tell Beau knows this, too, if the way she clutches Yasha's biceps tighter is anything to go by.

Beau kisses her, and there's something desperate about it. Maybe it's the way she finds the small of Yasha's back to pull her impossibly closer. Maybe it's the way she snakes her fingers into Yasha's hair to keep her there. Maybe it's the way she kisses her, all tongue and teeth and spit. It's messy. 

Yasha likes it.

She lifts Beau up, places her hands on Beau's thighs, easy as breathing. Beau moans against her lips, Yasha deepens the kiss. Because, maybe, Yasha feels a bit desperate too. 

She wants to hate this, how attached she's become to Beau, how much she likes her, how much she misses her, how much she  _ needs _ her. But she doesn't.

She hears the raindrops against the window, the distant rumbling of thunder. She opens her eyes, a flash of lightning, turns, throws Beau on the bed. Yasha drops to her knees in front of her and, finally, takes Beau's pants off.

Beau spreads her legs for her.

The Stormlord can wait.

Yasha's high on everything  _ Beau _ , her taste, her smell, the sounds she makes. She presses her tongue harder against Beau, faster. Her legs are slung over Yasha's shoulders, her thighs pressed against Yasha's ears and, yeah, Yasha thinks she could  _ definitely  _ do this for hours.

She slides two fingers into Beau. One, two, three strokes. Beau's moans get louder and louder;  _ pat pat pat pat pat pat pat;  _ a quick flick of her tongue; the crack of thunder, Beau screams Yasha's name.

And Yasha feels _ heavy _ , now, comes down from the high faster than she'd expected. That familiar ache settles deep in her bones once more, feels that tug in her gut.  _ Pat, pat, pat, pat.  _ She clenches her jaw.

But then there Beau is, breathing heavily, hair a mess. She places her fingers on Yasha's jaw and tilts her head up and looks at her like she  _ gets it; maybe _ , Yasha thinks,  _ maybe she does. _

“Wanna come up here?” She smirks at Yasha and shifts her head in that smug way of hers, and Yasha feels a little lighter already.

And Yasha never would have guessed, not in a million years, that Beau would be so inclined to being the little spoon, but, as she settles behind her, she's really grateful this is the case. There's something comforting about Beau's weight against her, something that anchors Yasha to the here and now.

Before she can get comfortable, however, Beau turns. “Do you want me to, uh, you know…” she asks awkwardly and points down. 

Yasha smiles (and, maybe, she lets out a little snort that she will absolutely deny, if asked about it), “No. This is good.” 

And it is.

_ Pat. _

_ Pat. _

_ Pat. _

She may have to leave shortly, and she may not know when she'll get to come back, but Beau gets it, maybe, and she'll be waiting for her when she returns.


End file.
